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Weekly Drabble Challenge - Time Turner: The Sorting - Results

One of Gato Loco's favorite fanfiction categories is Alternate Universe [it if is well-written, of course] - it's those 'what if' moments that make us obsess over non-canon ships, or minor ships; or it makes us squee over what could have been or wasn't. But more importantly, it keeps fanfiction alive and well.

In the Time Turner challenge, you'll be asked to write a very different reality than the one JKR gave us in the Potterverse. They'll be very general prompts and rarely will they be character specific.

Prompt:Take your favorite character and sort him/her into a different house than the one he/she was in the HP books.
Note: Your drabble doesn't have to focus on the sorting hat or the actual sorting. It could take place in the future, or be a "missing moment" in time.

The following form must be used when submitting your drabble responses to this post -

Name:
House:
Title:
Word Count:
Warnings:

Winners will be awarded 15, 10, and 5 points respectively.

All drabbles must be less than 500 words; All standard grammar rules, and MNFF submissions guidelines apply.

The challenge will be up for a week, and be closed exactly a week later (January 9th).

MithrilQuill and I will be judging them and posting results a couple of days later.

All questions should be referred to the Question Corner - Do not post questions here. Only drabbles!

Bushy-haired and bright-eyed, Hermione Granger walk up to face her future. She hurried and hopped on to the three-legged stool, frightened to death. What if she didn't belong in the magical world? What if the hat couldn't sort her?

'Nonsense,' a voice inside her head said. 'You're smart and you fixed Harry Potter's glasses. The Harry Potter! If you can do that, you can do anything!'

The professor gingerly placed the hat on top of young Hermione's head, and stepped back.

There was a curious sensation in Hermione's mind, a soothing, cool presence. It ruffled through her mind, looking at memories, reading thoughts, even listening to past conversations.

'I bet it'll find all of the things that's wrong with you,' a nasty little voice pipped up in the back of Hermione's mind. The cooling presence paused for a moment and continued it's work.

"Ahh," another voice said in Hermione's head, causing her to jump violently. " You know that arguing with yourself is the first sign of insanity. But sometimes, the sign of brilliance. You happen to be very smart, very smart indeed. You can retain volumes of knowledge in this bright, young head. You're quick to answer, witty, and looks at situations with a clear head. I know exactly where to place you!"

'Out on the streets to be a filthy Begger,' the nasty voice said.

'In a great House with people who will absolutely love you,' the sweet voice crooned.

"RAVENCLAW!" The Sorting Hat announced.

There was clapping all around. Hermione spotted Harry Potter and his friend, Ron Something-Or-Another.

"Knew it. The Know-It-All's always go there," Ron whispered to Harry Potter as she passed. "Glad I'm not going to be there."

They all look at me strange. They know! But how could they? Nonsense - don't talk to yourself like that. Get it together.

These are the thoughts that filled Remus' head that morning as he slowly made his way to Charms. He didn't walk with his classmates. Hufflepuffs were always so talkative, and they would no doubt make their inquiries.

Remus' books almost slipped from his hands as he winced with pain. His ankle had a nasty gash when he awoke that morning. He must have fought a large animal last night, for he also had scratches upon his face and chest. The pain was agonizing, but he had to disguise it.

Come on, Remus. Be thankful. Dumbledore was very gracious... It will be okay.

When he arrived, he sat in his usual spot, near the back of the classroom, and hid behind a book as the pain continued. Professor Flitwick rambled about Severing Charms.

He wished he had someone to talk to during class. But what would they say if they learned? This inhibition that pierced his mind and controlled his body. He dreaded the thought of passing his lycanthropy by accident.

"Who first? How about you, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus gazed up from his book, and saw Professor Flitwick motioning for him. Why now?! Remus thought, and reluctantly made his way down.

"Now class, we will be Severing this basket of rocks, across the room. Mr. Lupin, remember, the spell is, Diffindo."

Remus had read ahead in his Charms book. He knew the spell already. He brought his wand to the ready, and flourished it.

"Diffin..." Suddenly, an all encompassing pulse of pain overwhelmed him. He fell to the floor, dropped his wand, and clutched his ankle. The classroom erupted in laughter.

"Mr. Lupin, are you alright?"

As he knelt on the floor, he turned to the laughing class, which he shared with Gryffindor. He saw James Potter and Sirius Black guffawing with laughter. "Yes, sir. Sorry," Remus said.

He stood up, and flourished his wand again, "Diffindo." The basket split down the side and poured its contents to the floor.

Remus quickly retreated to his desk as Lily Evans passed him. When he politely made room for her, she patted his shoulder sweetly, and whispered in his ear. "Don't even worry about it, Remus."

Remus hurried back to his desk. He glanced up as Lily Severed the basket with ease. She turned and smiled confidently at him. He was glad to be able to speak with Lily, one of the few he had confided anything to. He was very happy to have someone to speak with; to almost consider a friend.

He saw James scowl at him. James has always been fond of Lily, he thought. And here I am, looking like the stupidest person in the school, in front of James and Sirius, the most popular. How typical.

Remus took his book once more and lost himself in it. Hopefully the next full moon wouldn't be so bad.

Name: PonderingHouse:RavenclawTitle: As the Wall CrumblesWord Count: 499Warnings: Character Death

Fred ran down the staircase, the blood pounding in his ears. Death Eaters were at Hogwarts, Aberforth had told them, and the Order had come to help.

A stray hex flew over his head, but he dodged it to keep running. In front of him he could see a Death Eater who wasn’t doing anything, simply standing in the corridor with his wand raised.

A curse was almost out of Fred’s mouth when the Death Eater began to speak. “Would you really curse your brother, Fred?”

Fred halted. The voice was chillingly familiar, but he refused to believe it. There was no way any brother of his could be associated with You-Know-Who…

“Your twin brother, Fred?” Slowly, George removed his mask and to Fred, it was if he was looking in a mirror. George’s face was as pale as Fred’s own must have been and both were breathing heavily.

“No,” Fred muttered, resisting the urge to slip down onto the ground. He had to keep his guard. His fingers curled around his wand, but he did not use it yet. “How could you do this to me? To Mum? To the rest of the family?”

George’s face tightened, and the fingers around his own wand tightened. “Don’t you mean how could you do this to me? Ever since I was sorted into Slytherin…everyone acted as if I was the family’s greatest disappointment.”

“I didn’t, we didn’t,” Fred stuttered. “You’re my brother. You’re our family. No-one said anything about you being a Slytherin, no-one minded. We knew if it was the best house for you, it was the best house for you.”

“You’re right!” George shouted. “No-one said anything! You got a letter of congratulations, what did I get? Nothing! They didn’t mention it, but they ignored it!”

“But…” Fred mumbled, “We were still friends. We still played jokes together, hung out together, just like we did at home.”

George fingered the tip of his wand. “Yes. You’re right. We still pranked together, laughed together, but we didn’t talk to each other. You didn’t offer me friendship, you just gave a pale imitation.”

Fred felt a tear slip down his cheek but he swiped it away. He refused to cry in front of his now Death Eater brother. “I tried, George, I tried.”

“Trying wasn’t good enough!” George roared. “You were always stronger than me! I always relied on you when we were younger to help me stand up to people. You don’t know what goes on in the dungeons, Fred. You don’t know what the Dark Lord can offer to persuade people to join his ranks!”

“What did he persuade you with?” Fred asked sarcastically.

“He promised me my brother,” George said softly, looking straight at Fred. “But I won’t let him have you. You’re too strong to become a Death Eater, unlike me.”

Before Fred could raise his wand, George had blasted the wall. It crumbled above Fred and the last thing he saw was George’s empty eyes.

Name: The Marauding CupcakeHouse:GryffindorTitle: The Hufflepuff and The Good SamaritanWord Count: 498Warnings: none

The Great Hall was buzzing with chatter as the First Day feast began to wind down. Old friends were catching each other up on the happenings over summer holidays and newly sorted First Years were taking tentative steps into making lifetime friendships. That is, all but one boy who kept his head ducked over his plate, offering only the most timid smile when clapped on the back or offered a hand in introduction. He was a pale, slight boy who did not look well at all, so the others didn’t find it a great loss that he was not very sociable.

This didn’t bother him, though. He’d been more than surprised to get his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so the hardship of foregoing close friendships was a small price to pay for someone like him. It made it less complicated, as well. Every time he’d made friends in the past, his affliction would assuredly and quickly put an end to it, so he really no longer bothered trying.

The tables had been vanished clean and the students were queuing up behind their Prefects to be guided to their Houses. Two black haired boys were laughing raucously when one leaned into the other, full of excitement.

“Look!” The messy-haired boy named James pointed, picking out another dark, albeit stringy, haired boy. “There’s that Snivellus bloke! Landed in Slytherin, just like he wanted.”

“Yeah,” said the boy’s friend, a malicious look gleamed in his grey eyes. “Watch this! I’ve learned loads of jinxes from my cousin, Bella.” He covertly poised his wand at his target and had just as he’d gotten a clear shot when the sickly boy, who’d had his head down while making his way through the throng of students, ran right into him, displacing the well aimed jinx.

“Sorry,” the boy squeaked, barely raising his head in acknowledgment, and pushed on through.

“What the bloody hell was that?” the boy called Sirius fumed, tracking his assailant through the crowd.

“Dunno. He’s a Hufflepuff first year, but I can’t remember his name.” James shrugged as Sirius continued to stare.

The sickly boy had just spotted Madame Pomfrey, with whom he was supposed to meet, and hurried across the hallway. He’d just reached a small file of boys when he felt a tightness around his ankles and came crashing to the ground with a sickening smack. Amidst the gasps, the boy could hear the peals of laughter from the boys he’d accidentally run into. With a burning in his cheeks, he’d slowly pushed himself up when a hand came into view.

“Trip jinx,” came the low, quiet voice of his Good Samaritan. He took the hand and came face to face with the stringy haired boy.

“Thanks,” he offered awkwardly. “I’m Remus. Remus Lupin.”

“Severus Snape,” the stringy haired boy said, regarding the two bullies with distaste. Turning back to Remus, the corners of Severus’ mouth curled as he said, “Anytime. Anytime, at all.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Lily,” Severus grumbled as the two of them walked across the grounds. “I can handle them myself.”

Lily sighed, pushing her long red hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sev; you know I can’t stand it when they start picking fights,” she said, her eyes glinting frustration once more. “James is such and arrogant prat; one would think, after five years of being kept in a dormitory with you, he would learn to just give it up already. I don’t understand why he hates you so much.”

Severus looked up at Lily, conflict tearing away at his insides. But James’ words were still ringing in his ears. It was about time he proved to that snobby rich-boy he was no coward. After a moment, Severus asked slowly, “Lily… how much of our argument did you hear?”

She looked slightly confused. “Not much, really… I got there just as he was about to hex you.”

“We were talking about you,” Severus stated abruptly, as if not to allow himself time to change his mind.

Lily’s eyes widened. “What? Why were you arguing about me?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

“The reason James hates me is because he considers me a rival, Lil. For you,” he said, more to the ground than Lily.

Lily looked affronted. “What? You mean he hates you just because you’re closer to me than he will ever be? Just because you’re my friend and he is a jealous git?”

Severus shifted slightly, inhaling deeply. “Well… yes. But there’s more to it than that. You’ve heard him call me the ‘cowardly Gryffindor,’ right?” She nodded slowly. Severus looked up into her eyes, his own blazing with a determination Lily usually only saw when he was working on a difficult potion. “He thinks I can’t prove him wrong, but his greatest fear is that I will,” he said, not taking his eyes off Lily.

The intensity of his gaze made her blush, but she ignored it and asked, “What are you talking about, Sev?”

“I’m tired of not having the courage to tell you what I’ve been dying to say for years. I’m tired of not having the courage to tell you I love you as more than just a friend… and not having the courage to find out if you feel the same about me,” he said breathlessly, his eyes pleading with Lily not to hate him for his confession.

Lily looked a little less than stunned, but after a moment a small smile crept onto her face. “I guess this makes you a better Gryffindor than me, Severus,” she breathed, her cheeks turning pink once more. “Because I don’t think I would ever have had the guts to tell you I feel the same way.”

Severus broke into the first real smile he had shown in years. “You just did,” he answered quietly. With another display of Gryffindor boldness, he closed the gap between them and kissed her.

Nothing against my fellow puffs....its just the Weasley PoV! I LOVE being a puff!

He slowly dragged his feet, following a tall boy dressed in long yellow and black robes. His sad blue eyes were downcast as his mind raced with thoughts. He felt empty and alone, abandoned by his family. This lonely first year seemed to be the only redhead in the crowd leading towards their new common room.

What will Mum say when she finds out? the boy thought, looking up for the first time since his group had left the Great Hall.

It was then that he saw his older brothers’ leading his new friend, Harry Potter, down around the corridor. He seemed to be forgotten as he traveled up the staircase that wound around the castle like a never ending serpent. The portraits on the cold stone walls seemed to point and whisper as he passed.

Of course they’d choose Harry Potter over me, the little redhead thought with a frown on his face. Why would they want me when they can have someone that can bring fame to the family? At least he could get noticed in my family. I’m nothing to them!

The boy felt like a shadow, passed over by his brilliant brothers, all of whom had made a name for themselves at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. He felt like a nobody, just another Weasley in the crowd.

I bet I’ll get a Howler! I must be the world’s biggest prat to be the only Weasley in the history of world that hasn’t been sorted into Gryffindor! I’ll be the laughing stock of the family!.

Sure he had been proven to be a true friend and have a great heart, but he still couldn’t except the fact that he hadn’t followed the family tradition. The boy would never forget the looks of horror on his brothers’ faces as the Sorting Hat shouted that horrible word; Hufflepuff.

The little redhead had been so distraught that he hadn’t barely touch his meal at dinner, a never occurring phenomena. He had always dreamed of sleeping in the circular dorms lace with brilliant reds and golds; home of the brave at heart. That’s where he belonged.

Suddenly, the boy looked up to see himself in a perfectly circular yellow and black room, the mighty badger hanging on the wall decorations. The boy closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He felt as if he were about to vomit, the whole ordeal was surreal to him, too overwhelming. How could this have happened? Had the Sorting Hat made a mistake?

“Welcome to the burrow!” The boy in yellow called to the room of first years, a grand smile on his face. Ron looked down at the bright yellow rug, shuffling his feet as the prefect talked. He felt like a small ant, ready to be stepped on by a large yellow shoe.

“Murder me,” Ron muttered, looking up in hopes that someone would put him out of his misery. He was a misplaced Weasley.

He was beside himself with worry. What was he going to do? He had been so sure that he would be placed in Slytherin, just like his father and all the rest of his family had been. What foul qualities did he possess that had caused the hat to place him, of all people, in Gryffindor?

Making his way to the Gryffindor table, these thoughts ran through the shocked boys head as he looked to his childhood playmates for some type of reassurance; the two large boys merely sneered at him from the Slytherin table. If that was how children his own age he had known all his life were going to treat him, what about his family?

Finally reaching the table he came face to face with the bossy girl that he had met previously on the train, at a time when he thought for sure that he would be placed in Slytherin. How was he to treat her now? Surely he couldn't use the term 'Mudblood' in the Gryffindor common room and expect to sleep safely at night.

The boy was at a loss on how to act, how to carry himself. His father had always taught him to treat others as servants, as though they were beneath him; after all, not many could say their blood was as pure as his. From a young age he had been told that anyone not of original wizarding stock wasn't worth a brass Knut. What was he to think now?

Everything the boy had ever been taught, ever known, was now null and void; at least it was if he wanted to have friends. Did he really want to be friends with these people? The boy just couldn't picture going through the next seven years without befriending at least one person. So, he did the only thing he felt he could do; he extended his hand to the girl from the train, eying her bushy brown hair and buck teeth with some amusement.

Ooh, she nasty!

Neville Longbottom rolled over in his bed as Zacharias closed the door loudly behind him. Breakfast already? he thought wearily. He sipposed breakfast was a good thing, but then after breakfast came OWLs, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Snape- all things he didn't like. No sense in putting it off, he mused after a while, pushing off his covers. The others will just come and get you if you sleep in.

Groggily, he pulled back the yellow-and-black hangings and stepped onto the cold basement floor. Neville absentmindedly changed into his robes, wondering vaguely what would be for breakfast today and how hard the Transfiguration tests would be.

As he walked to the Great Hall, there seemed to be no one in the corridors. That's odd, he thought. Maybe I slept in later than I thought.

When Neville stepped through the doorway and sat down next to Justin, he noticed that people were whispering and looking around anxiously.

'Nah, they're on fine. It's just that something don't seem right. Half of the Professors are missing. McGonnagal, Snape, Pomphrey, Dumbledore....' He trailed off, fidling with his eggs.

Neville's eyes darted down the staff table. Justin was right. None of the people he had listed were there, and those who did had the look that they knew something was very wrong, but they weren't sure exactly what yet.

Suddenly, Dumbledore entered the Hall, face down. His movement seemed wretched with despair, defeat, and weariness. Slowly, he ambled up to the staff table, walked around, and took a seat. Dumbledore's long fingers steepled themselves on the plate, as was customary. Neville noticed with a jolt that they were shaking.

Professor Dumbledore looked up without warning. His features were distraut and Neville swore he looked as if he had been crying.

'A... a most terrible-' Dumbledore's voice shook, heavy with emotion. There was something else there, too- fear? 'A terrible thing happened last night. Several students believed they had something to be doing in the Ministry of Magic. They were attacked by Death Eaters. Ginny Weasley....' He paused, gathering himself. '-Ginny Weasley suffered a broken ankle. Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley are in the Hospital Wing now, undergoing a stiff healing regimine from Madame Pomphrey.'

A sigh-gasp of almost-relieve overcame the room, but the look on Dumbledore's face forespelled doom. In an instant, an ominous hush clouded the Great Hall. Neville grasped his fork tightly in his hand. He was sure the tension within him would snap the metal.

Dumbledore's words seemed to take an age to fight their way out of him.

The Ministry of Magic was dark, the Atrium unlit save for the hundred tiny lights behind a large banner bearing the face of a man everyone knew and feared, and a slogan everyone repeated before breakfast. Magic is Might. This man was more a face than a man, in actuality. The Dark Lord, Voldemort. But the Dark Lord could not be bothered with running every aspect of the government, choosing to take part only in the activities that pleased him most. For the minor things, he had an aide, and this aide was the Minister of Magic.

“Sir,” a rat-faced woman called, camera clutched in her hands and she pursued the Aide. “A comment, sir, on the new Muggle-hunting laws, will you?”

The aide turned his pace face to her for a moment, and then looked away. “No comment,” he replied.

“Minister,” another journalist called, this one a man with a wiry beard. “How did you get to be in the position you are today? How did you become Aide to the Dark Lord? Was it your father? Was it your father’s position among the Death Eaters?”

“Hardly,” the Minister replied, adjusting the sleeves of his long black cloak as he summoned a lift at the far end of the Atrium.

“Extortion, manipulation?” the rat-woman called again. “Don’t pretend you haven’t used every mean available to you?”

“I have,” the man admitted, polished shoe tapping as he waited for the lift. “A combination of ambition and hard work has brought me here. I remained true and loyal to the Dark Lord, and I worked hard to be where I am, miss.”

The woman seemed somewhat put out, hoping for some juicy admission for her tabloids. Nothing negative, of course. The Dark Lord controlled the media.

Sensing an audience, the Minister stretched himself to his full height, which was modest, to say in the least. “Members of the press,” he began. “I have reached this point in my career through hard work and a desire for justice. I longed for wizard kind to finally receive the acknowledgement of their superiority over the Muggle filth in our society. I believe in this cause, and I believe in our Lord, Voldemort. I have taken no shortcuts in my life, and that is why I am here. I was a Hufflepuff, remember? I understand well the concept of hard work.”

The lift doors parted, and the Minister stepped in, escaping the reporters even as they cried, “Minister! Mr. Malfoy! Sir!” A few cameras flashed, catching an image of the proud looking man in the lift, and then there was no more. The journalists dispersed, all setting off to their desk to write about how Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic under Lord Voldemort, victor over Harry Potter, the Boy Who Died, learned the value of hard work from his house at Hogwarts; Hufflepuff.